


beautiful

by teenyappletea (whimsyappletea)



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6446923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsyappletea/pseuds/teenyappletea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>one simple act of kindness can change everything. —rin, len.</p>
            </blockquote>





	beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> first-person/past-tense writing practice; inspired by tales of different peter pans working at disneyland.
> 
> **trigger warning** for self-harm and mentions of suicide. the themes in this drabble are really heavy, so tread with caution and stay safe.

.  
.  
.

**beautiful**  
_one simple act of kindness can change everything._

.

A stranger called me beautiful today.

He was a taxi driver – looked a little young for his profession, really, barely peaking his late-twenties. Blond hair, blue eyes, with soft features and an even softer smile.

And I absolutely _hated_ him at first.

.

_“Good evening, miss, where would you like to go?”  
“Crypton district, please.”_

.

I completely regretted riding shotgun the moment he decided to stick his nose into my business – he kept casting me side-glances when he thought I wasn’t looking and probing me about the little things, like hey, how was your day, what’s with the huge stack of textbooks, are you still studying in university, yeah, your senior year _can_ be pretty tough, oh, have you ever been to this snazzy restaurant downtown, it’s really good, you should check it out sometime if you haven’t.

He was one of _those_ people – cheery, upbeat, and more than enough to blind me with his bright personality.

But it shouldn’t have mattered. He was just a taxi driver; he was no one important.

.

_“Oh. Oh, um – I didn’t notice this before until that streetlight lit up your figure, but – well. Can I stop here for a second?”  
“... Alright.”_

.

It turned out that while I was absently toying with an errand strand of hair, he’d caught sight of my scars – the long, jagged marks that marred my wrists. Some were fresh while others were old, but all of them were just as ugly and monstrous as I felt on the inside.

I was horrified that he’d noticed them. They were shameful reminders of how weak and foolish I was, that nothing I ever did was good enough and the pain would always be here to stay.

The last thing I needed was someone – a blasted _taxi driver_ , no less – judging me for something they wouldn’t understand, so instinctively I tried to pull away from him, maybe planning to hightail it out of the taxi and never look back, but –

.

_“Stop it, just let me go – !”  
“You have battle scars from a war that’s raging within you – you must’ve been through a lot, huh.”_

.

I stilled.

He was just a taxi driver, I reminded myself, finally able to extract my arm from his surprisingly gentle grip. He was no one important. He didn’t know what he was talking about – this man probably thought he could fix me, but I didn’t need fixing. I was not a _toy_.

.

_“Why do you care so much about my scars? You barely even know me.”  
“Marks like yours – they make a person grow up too fast.”_

.

He’d looked so heartbroken with that whispered reply – which was odd, since he was the one who broke mine right there and then. Even though we’d only been acquainted for maybe an hour at most, it was like he saw right through me.

It was like he understood.

.

_“You’re so much stronger than you realize.”_

.

And then he smiled.

He’d smiled – and it reassured me all kinds of things, like you’re not a waste of a pretty face like everyone else assumes, there’s so much more to you than just a girl littered with scars, you’re not broken, of _course_ not, because more than anything, you’re doing your absolute _best_ and that’s what really matters.

In one slow, deliberate movement, he brought my left wrist to his lips. Leaned over to pull me into a hug, and murmured his previous sentiment once more.

And it shouldn’t have mattered. He was just a taxi driver; he was no one important.

But this taxi driver was the only one who’d told me everything I ever needed to hear.

.

_“I hope you never forget how beautiful you are.”_

.

When we finally arrived at my destination, he’d insisted on waiving off the taxi fares for me and making the whole ride free-of-charge, but I’d had none of that and ended up giving him a really big tip instead.

In exchange, he scribbled a sloppy note and pressed it into my hands – telling me to read it when I had the time.

The moment I reached home, I broke down.

What the taxi driver didn’t know was that I’d been planning to end everything today. I was so sick of fighting and struggling to no avail that I was ready to give up for good; the textbooks I had with me in the taxi were the heavy ones I’d cleared from my locker to make life easier for everyone else who had to clean up after me. I had an apology-slash-goodbye letter written, I had my last meal at school, and I was _prepared_.

I was prepared to sleep forever.

.

_My name is Len. Whenever you feel like the battle is almost lost –  
+81 011-271-6677. ୧( ˵ • ᴗ • ˵ )୨_

.

But a stranger called me beautiful today.

He was a taxi driver – a lot wiser than he looked, really, despite his young age. Blond hair, blue eyes, with soft features and an even softer smile.

And I came to thank him from the bottom of my heart in the end.

.  
.  
.

**Author's Note:**

>  **disclaimer:** i do not own Vocaloid.


End file.
